Making New Friends (Part 1)
Cockpit - Hirakiis The cockpit of the Sardakh 750 class freighter is comfortable and well furnished. In the middle of the cockpit is a solitary black leather seat surrounded by consoles. Sensor readings and ship status lights blink and flash on those very consoles, detailing everything the pilot needs to know. Behind the pilot's console, set back against the bulkhead near the exit are two black leather seats to accomodate the copilot and the navigator. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Lonrina => Nav-Comp Obvious exits: ft leads to Cargo Hold - Hirakiis. "Lonrina, I've been poking around with some contacts of mine, and I've found someone who may be willing to give us some work. We're headed to Tatooine." Jaspar says, from the conn, launching the ship into space. Just entering the cockpit, Lonrina's head-tails twitch and twine in interest. She steps up beside him to look out the screen. "On or below the level?" she asks. "For now, on the level. We might go below later." Jaspar replies, maneuvering the ship. "Would you like me to come with you for the meeting?" Lonrina asks him. "He did express interest in meeting both of us, but if you don't want to come you don't have to." Jaspar replies, offering a little shrug. "I will stay behind," the Twi'lek decides finally. "If he cares to meet me, then maybe we will have the chance soon. I still have some systems to go over on this tub before I am sure it's good enough for us." "Alright, then. I'll be back in a bit.." Jaspar says, maneuvering the ship in for landing, and then departing the ship without another word. -- Club Utinni -- MOS EISLEY -- Tatooine This large round nightclub seems to simultaneously cater to the seedier side of the city as well as the trendier crowd out for a good time. The room is lit with dizzying colors and dazzling holograms play off of the domed ceiling in a constant vidshow designed to amaze (and possibly distract) the clientele. The bones of a massive krayt dragon are embedded into the walls of the club encircling it completely with its massive skull over the entryway. The club itself is filled with a maze of tables, booths and mirrors forming confusing walkways so it takes effort to reach one point from any other point. Word has it that this is so the locals who are in the know can use it to their advantage to make their escape before trouble reaches them. The bar in the center of the club is cheerful, and the bright drinks come in every color of the rainbow in stylish glasses. Small rooms off to the side house gambling amusements and cheers can be heard from them on occasion as lucky rollers strike it big. A raised platform at the back of the club forms a bandstand for live entertainment. Synthesized tech-jazz plays at other times. Not far from the bandstand, curtains seal off a private alcove with a polished dais and cushions reserved for a patron of notable girth. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Lugjack Machine => Casino Chip Dispenser => R2 Astromech Droid => Protocol Droid => Server Droid -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Tritus Obvious exits: ut leads to Main Street South -- MOS EISLEY -- Tatooine. Club Utinni is a hub of activity this time of night, and as such, sentients of all colours and sizes litter the club, enjoying vices both legal and elsewise. Dancing occurs here and there, and gambling is commonplace. Even some rather uncouthe sounds can be heard eminating from some of the private, curtained off areas. Yet, amidst it all, a solitary figure in black seems to draw the respect - or quite possibly fear - of all those gathered within the club. Sat alone at a table within the center of this thronging mass of sentients, a black-clad man rests comfortably, a glass nearly full of an amber liquid at his left hand. His right is tucked away within his lap, out of line of sight, and it is with his left that he taps a finger at his glass, leaning comfortably back within his seat, enjoying the space afforded him by those gathered. Into the club wanders the young free-trader known as Jaspar. He offers a polite nod to the folks nearest the door, and then makes his way over to the bar, ordering some weak-but-still-alcoholic drink, before taking a seat. He keeps mostly to himself, casting periodic glances around the room, as if looking for someone, but not seeing them. He stretches luxuriously, revealing the fact that he's unarmed. A glance from dark orbs is offered the newcomer, but little more. The man left alone seems quite content to remain that way for the time being. The glass he had been playing with is raised to lips, sipping at the amber liquid, before replacing it methodically where it had come from, and eyes once again drift about, locking on the form of Jaspar, perhaps catching sight of the fact that he has no weapon. A soft intake of breath is had, before released slowly, and gaze is once again averted from the man as he relaxes back into his seat. Others don't seem so quick to disregard the unarmed free-trader, and several sets of eyes rest upon the man, looking him over, assessingly. Grins are exchanged; soft chuckles are given life from lips. And several sentients seem to be looking rather predatorially towards the man. The free-trader rises from his seat, and seats himself closer to the black-clad man. Whether he's doing it specifically because of the man, or whether it's a coincidence, is anyone's guess. Jaspar orders another drink, and tilts his head to and fro, eliciting several audible pops, followed by a contented sigh. He seems more focused on his drink than anything else.. Another sidelong glance is afforded the free-trader, but the black-clad man seems little concerned by his appearance, nor his moving closer. Aside from the ornate rapier hanging at his own hip, the man seems to be lacking any visible armaments himself. Yet even so, those within Club Utinni seem to give him plenty of room. Another soft intake of breath is had as more eyes are drawn in the direction of Jaspar, and he slowly shakes his head. "You are fresh meat to them." his baritone bereft of inflection carries unto the air. He does not even look towards the man, instead hovering the glass before his lips. "Give me one good reason why I should not allow them to descend as a pack of ravenous dogs upon you." he adds after a moment, while a couple of the more dangerous looking sorts have already begun to position themselves between Jaspar and the exits of the club. Jaspar puts up his hands, indicatively. "I'm not here to ruffle any feathers, or however you wish to phrase it. I'm a free-trader, plain and simple." He pauses, taking a drink. "I hear you're the man to see if one's looking for a reliable personal armament, or a job in that field. Did I hear incorrectly?" He wonders, aloud. Silence ensues, and the man raises the glass slowly to his lips, sipping from it before replacing it in much the same manner as before. It is not until then that he glances towards those beginning to encroach upon the newcomer, and a barely perceptible shake of his head sends them scattering once again to the corners of the establishment. "Please." he states slowly, nodding to the seat across from him. "Join me." It is then that his right hand is drawn from his lap, and the metallic 'clank' can be heard as the steel hand is placed upon the table. "You did not hear incorrectly." he states slowly, his words a low drawl almost. "How may I be of assistance to you..?" His final word trails off, with a questioning lilt, as though seeking a name to call the man by. "Jaspar," comes the reply, the man starting to relax, though still a bit on-guard until he sees the crowd dispersing. He then moves to the offered spot. "Jaspar Andromidas." He meets the man's gaze. "Good to meet you." A reserved smile. "Yes, well, that remains to be seen, and is entirely dependent on the size of your pocketbook." states the man in black simply. Considering Jaspar a moment longer, the man raises his glass and downs the remaining contents, before placing it once again upon the table. Rising from his seat, he begins to walk towards the exit. "Come with me." he states rather simply, an almost bored tone within his voice as his booted footfalls carry him swiftly across the club towards the exit, sentients shifting out of his path as he goes. Jaspar rises from his seat, and falls into step with the man, matching pace rather easily. He glances back one last time, glad to be leaving the den of knives and other deadly things. "Where are we headed, if I may ask?" Jaspar inquires as he crosses the threshold. "To my shop." states the man simply, not looking back as he goes. >>Continue Category:RP Logs